Scott Moran - Systems

Some guard checking my documents like he's deciding whether I deserve oxygen.
People talk about systems; I've seen systems,
Mostly their hallways full of other people's indifference.
Papers stacked on paper like it's supposed to mean something; I keep signing anyway.
A player on tilt who refuses to walk away,
Even after the table's burned down.
I learned a few years ago that madness doesn't always look like screaming.
Sometimes it looks like a calm voice lying straight to your face,
With the confidence of a stage actor who forgot it was a play.
Some people can turn their own damn engine to weapons,
And they sweetheart.
The nights are worse since I'm the outwards.